


a lobster fishing caterer and a pretentious romance novelist

by quidhitch



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: A Good Prompt, M/M, strangers meeting at a wedding au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-02 23:19:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8687461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quidhitch/pseuds/quidhitch
Summary: He is, in short, the most beautiful person Dex has ever seen. He’s stretched out across the window sill in a way that highlights the very appealing lines of his fantastic body and he’s clearly one of the wedding guests, discarded garments of what looks like a cream-colored three piece lying at his feet. He’s left in a white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, and judging by the label on the pocket, it probably costs more than Dex is going to make this week.It should be annoying, especially since he’s also thumbing through a paperback with a cover so obnoxious Dex just knows it’s popular in pretentious indie circles, but… god, he looks good.





	

**Author's Note:**

> holla at me on quidhitch dot tumblr dot com yo

Dex is going onto hour four of his catering shift and losing steam quick when he sees Handsome Man through the clear panel on the stock room door.

He is, in short, the most beautiful person Dex has ever seen. He’s stretched out across the window sill in a way that highlights the very appealing lines of his fantastic body and he’s clearly one of the wedding guests, discarded garments of what looks like a cream-colored three piece lying at his feet. He’s left in a white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, and judging by the label on the pocket, it probably costs more than Dex is going to make this week.

It should be annoying, especially since he’s also thumbing through a paperback with a cover so obnoxious Dex just knows it’s popular in pretentious indie circles, but… god, he looks good.

“Hey,” Dex says, pushing through the door and cursing whatever god made it his responsibility to kick Handsome Man out of the stock room, “I get it, that’s the ninth time they’ve played Thinking Out Loud, but you still can’t be in here, man.”

Handsome Man is momentarily startled, his eyes darting from his pages to where Dex is standing, but once he recovers he gives Dex a lengthy appraisal over the rim of his tortoiseshell glasses. His mouth stretches into a slow smile, “why? Am I going to get you in trouble?”

A year ago Dex wouldn’t even have realized the words as a pass at him, but now, past his freshman year at Samwell and a patron of a few gay bars in the city, he knows this guy as the kind of irreverent flirt his mom would probably advise him to stay away from.

“Yes, actually,” he says, throwing Handsome Man wry smile over his shoulder as he busies himself with procuring the crate of pricey champagne he was instructed to retrieve. He heaves it off the stack, and turns back around, flushing when he sees Handsome Man’s gaze trailing over his arms.

“I know you can read,” Dex says, nodding to the book, “sign says employees only.”

“Right,” he says, setting down his book and leaning against the window sill. The sun is spilling through the glass and across his chest, warming his face to what Dex considers an almost criminal degree. “I’d like to put in an application.”

Dex lets out a bark of laughter before he can stop himself, but Handsome Man’s grin only widens. “Somehow I don’t think you’re qualified.”

“Probably not,” he sighs just as Dex is turning around (he’s already spent too much time in here), “I’m an English major.”

Dex tries very hard not to roll his eyes. Of course. Gorgeous and rich and an English major. It figures, the first guy he’s attracted to in over six months is completely intolerable.

“Well F. Scott,” Dex says, because he’s lame, and it’s kind of the only author he can summon with his arms getting sore from carrying this crate, “clear out before I come back for the wine, got it?”

“Wait, wait,” he says, and Dex does, for some inexplicable reason, “will you really, really get in trouble if I stay in here?”

Dex thinks about it. It’s kind of weird, but technically he’s the only person coming in and out of this particular store room. And his boss is doubling as a guest tonight, so she’s a little tipsy and not prone to micromanaging. Dex gives the man a skeptical look. 

“You really don’t wanna go out there that bad?”

“My ex is the groom.”

Dex winces. And spares another glance through the door to where the aforementioned groom is getting a little pervy with some bridesmaids. Yikes.

“Fine,” he sighs, pushing through the door and nodding for the guy to go back to the bench, “just stay quiet. And don’t tell anyone I let you stay here.”

“You’re a gem. Hey - what time do you get off?”

Even as he rolls his eyes Dex can’t not smile. Adjusting the crate’s position in his arms, he pushes through the doorway and into the kitchen, the sound of the Handsome Man’s laugh trailing behind him.

-

It’s actually…surprisingly nice, to have someone other than his coworkers (who are all exhausted beyond measure) to chat with, even if Handsome Man who is actually named Derek Nurse is pretty damn annoying.

“You’re staying at your aunt’s beach house,” Dex starts, focusing his judgmental stare on the unfolded table cloths in front of him, “to finish your memoirs? Jesus, aren’t you, like, twenty?”

“Twenty-one,” Derek corrects, wiggling the glass of champagne he snuck out to the bar to retrieve, “and yes. I know, it makes me sound like an asshole.”

“You said it, not me.”

“It’s really just to get practice, writing a full length book. I really want to write romance.”

Dex snorts, “of course you do.” He very pointedly does not look at Derek’s responding grin, instead running a hand through his hair and trying to remember how many table cloths Bitty asked him to bring out.

“What are you up to this summer, then? Besides tantalizing lonely strangers at weddings, of course.”

Is the universe just that mean? It would send a painfully handsome, rich, slightly tipsy, totally-out-of-his-league romance novelist to Dex’s stockroom, custom made to torment him with incessant flirting the entire night?

“I have three jobs,” he says, but he doesn’t really know why because he’s sure there’s nothing but either pity or judgment waiting on Derek’s face in response. “Trying to save up for next semester of college, comp-sci textbooks are crazy expensive.”

“Hmmm,” Derek hums, his expression surprisingly passive, “where else do you work?”

“Subway and on my uncle’s lobster boat - if you get out of that air conditioned mansion and onto the water, maybe I’ll see you.”

“Is that an invitation, William?”

Dex rolls his eyes and doesn’t respond, gathering up more table cloths than he probably actually needs and heading back towards the door, ducking his head and hiding his small, amused smile as he does.

-

The next time Dex re-enters the stock room, Derek’s hunched over, his brow furrowed, and his hand is flying over what looks like a napkin, pressing scrawls of dark ink that probably bleed through the whole stack into the paper. Dex sighs.

“I’ll pay for them,” Derek says, without even looking up.

“That’s not really how it works,” Dex says, but Derek pays no mind. He’s so focused right now, a striking contrast from the slow and lazy way he’d held himself before.

“Do you have a pen or anything I can write with? Mine just ran out.”

Dex wordlessly pulls his ‘POINDEXTER FISHING BOAT’ from his pocket and hands it to Derek. He takes it with a blindingly bright and appreciative smile before refocusing his attention back on the work in front of him.

They both go about their business in silence for a bit, and five minutes later Derek’s hand stops flying and he picks the barely legible napkin up, seemingly reading over his work in contemplation. Dex watches him, because he’s wanted to stare ever since he first laid eyes on him and it seems like a perfect opportunity.

Funnily enough, Derek doesn’t seem very impressed by his own writing. He winces and makes little noises of derision every couple lines, but he rounds it all off with a smile, gingerly folding the napkin and putting it in his pocket.

“For the memoirs?” Dex asks, turning back towards the silverware he’s supposed to be organizing.

“For the romance novel,” Derek smiles, settling back against the window sill in his former lackadaisical position. “Nothing like being at an ex’s wedding to make the lovelorn angst flow.”

“I still can’t believe that guy’s your ex,” Dex says, before he can convince himself not to.

“Yeah?” Derek asks, something sharp flashing behind his eyes. It’s kind of scary and kind of hot. “Is it because he’s white and has a girlfriend?”

“It’s because he’s a douchebag,” Dex admits, though he had been a little thrown by the girl thing. He’s still learning, about LGBT stuff. College helps but he has so much to unlearn, “and you, even though your shoes and choice of major suggest otherwise, are actually not that much of a douchebag.”

“You really know how to talk to a guy, William.”

“What can I say,” Dex deadpans, “I’m a charmer.”

Derek laughs, because for some absurd reason he seems to actually find Dex charming, and just looks at him for a second. “We didn’t really date in high school. It was more he needed someone to relieve his gay feelings with and I was the only out kid in the freshman and sophomore class.”

Dex doesn’t really know what to say to that, but he’s pretty sure “wow, that really is romance novel material” is probably not correct. Derek laughs anyways, his gorgeous green eyes lighting up even as it gets darker and darker outside.

“You could do so much better,” Dex blurts, even though he’s known this guy for approximately thirty seconds, “…than that guy. He’s - and you’re - just… You could do a lot better.”

Derek’s responding smile isn’t teasing or flirtatious and nerve-wracking like usual, but it’s just as beautiful, something softer and more genuine than Dex would expect.

“Yeah,” he says, looking down at Dex’s mouth then back up to his eyes, “I’m starting to think so too.”

Dex flushes and turns back down towards floor in front of him. He says, without raising his head from the silverware crate, “I get off at six.”

He can see Derek’s grin in his periphery. “It’s a date.”

-

Derek is a good kisser. A scary good kisser. Dex usually isn’t a kiss on the first day you meet kind of guy, but he is willing to make an exception for such a phenomenal kisser.

“How are you not cold right now?” he mumbles against Derek’s mouth, kissing the corner of his lips and then his jaw. He can feel Nursey smile against his cheek.

“Certain activities are warming me up,” Derek says innocently, before reaching around Dex to grab at a not-so-innocent place. Dex nearly yelps in response, pressing closer and trying not to laugh against his mouth.

Derek’s mouth stops moving for a second and Dex pulls back a bit, eyeing him curiously. There’s a funny expression on his face, like he’s contemplating whether or not he should say something.

“What?” Dex asks, praying the next words out of his mouth aren’t ‘Are you into live action roleplaying’ or ‘I have a husband’. It has happened more times than he cares to admit.

“I like you,” Derek says, his hands sliding to Dex’s waist and curling into the fabric of his sweatshirt, “I want to take you out. On a real date. Not just make out with you behind my ex’s wedding venue.”

“Okay,” Dex says, tentatively, because he’s not a hundred percent sure why he thinks Dex would have some issue with this.

“But, like… listen to that sentence. I am a mess,” he says it with a laugh, like maybe he expects Dex to be in on the joke, but Dex doesn’t really get it, “it’s probably a bad idea, to start something with someone I like. When I’m a mess.”

“You’re not a mess,” Dex stays stubbornly, the tips of his ears turning red like they always do when he’s feeling obstinate, “your shoes are terrible and you’re pretentious as fuck, but you’re not a mess. You’re charming and smart and sexy and,” Dex shoves his hand in his pants pocket, fishing out the pen he lent to Derek earlier and pulling at his palm. He scrawls his number across Derek’s wrist in messy by legible script, “and if you want to, you should call.”

Derek runs his fingers over the numbers and looks up at Dex, tentative interest on his face, “okay.”

“Okay,” Dex repeats, and pulls Derek in by the front of his shirt for one last long, shiver-inducing kiss before letting go, pushing his hands in his pockets, and trudging back to his car. 

“See you around, Poindexter,” Derek calls from where he’s leaning casually back against the wall, magnificent arms crossed over his magnificent chest.

Dex smiles despite the fact he has reached and surpassed his daily quota for it, “If you say so, Nurse.”

-

Two weeks later, Derek calls and they go out for dinner. One year passes and Derek transfers to Samwell University. Another two and Derek’s first romance novel hits the shelves, the cover bursting with rich greens and ambers, the weight of it heavy between Dex’s hands.

It’s about a deep sea fisherman and a romance novelist, both miserable and uninspired until they find a love they never saw coming at some douchebag’s wedding.


End file.
